Miss Extraordinary
by miss-worldwide
Summary: Circumstances force Teagan Burke, your typical hot Irish mess who enjoys pints, football, and late night adventures, to join a massive crew that follows a bunch of idiots across the world, much like a puppy strapped on a leash. But Teagan was never an animal enthusiast. And she's no one's bitch. A tale of loosing, schmoozing and floozing. Niall/OC/Harry
1. Chutzpahstic

When you're good at something, or when you possess a special quality or ability, you are totally aware of it. You can be modest about it and politely brush off the various appreciative and awe-stricken comments you receive but deep inside, you know that it's all true.

You just _know_. It's like a special insight you have into yourself and your own potential to do great things.

But I just haven't experienced that feeling yet. I'm almost positive that there's nothing unique about me. I don't possess any quality that sets me apart.

And I know that makes me seem like your typical teenage girl that sits on the computer and types out the sad woes of her life on some rubbish blogging website like Tumblr, telling some nonexistent reader over and over again how she feels like a good-for-nothing potato that has no idea what to do in life whatsoever.

It's probably because that's what I am, precisely. A potato. But even potatoes are versatile little mofos that taste scrumptious no matter how you prepare them: mashed, whipped, baked, fried, served with or without gravy, found in fries, pancakes, soups, etc. Case in point: potatoes are fucking awesome.

And me? I'm just plain old Teagan. And I'm not even nearly as cool as a gnarly, brown vegetable.

See, I come from a family of successful and brilliant individuals. My older brother Sean is a stellar businessman who earned his first million before his 25th birthday. He's Mum and Dad's bundle of pride and joy, and a household name all over Ireland even. He's your typical golden child.

And then there's my older sister Fiona who I love and admire to pieces. She was a shoo-in gymnast for the 2008 Olympic Games in Beijing but she met with a life-threatening ski accident right before the Trials and it was honestly such a miracle that she even came out alive. She had to give up her gymnastics career forever and naturally it devastated her.

It was her biggest dream, her greatest ambition, and the one thing she'd dedicated her life to and just like that it was gone and snatched from her.

But Fiona was a fighter. She realized that she had to pick up the pieces and get on with her life and she chose to mend her heart along the way. She'd always been a genius film maker, so she applied to USC Film School in the States and received admission and graduated with Honors last year. She now has her own film company in London and she's slowly working her way to the top.

Her story inspires others and she is constantly complimented on her resilience, courage and fortitude. She made Mum and Dad so amazingly proud and she's a role model to people everywhere.

So now do you see what I mean by brilliant? It definitely doesn't help that my father himself went from being the son of a milkman in Feeny (a Northern Ireland village town of 542 people) to gaining the title of 'entertainment industry mogul', representing high profile clients across the UK and Ireland.

The bar has always been set high for me and my siblings, but I suppose I'm the only Burke child that hasn't been able to succeed and meet expectations. I'm the big disappointment. Not necessarily the black sheep, because to me personally a black sheep seems quite exotic and fascinating and strangely alluring and well, I'm not any of those things.

When I was in primary school and worrying about things other than my blandness, such as the time of the ice cream man's arrival and the kind of chocolates my father would bring home from work, something my mother told me remains etched in my brain.

"You're different, Teagan." she'd proclaimed. "You have chutzpah. Not the kind of audacity Fiona has. It's more than just bravery. It's, well, it's chutzpah. That's exactly what it is."

And I was perpetually confused. Even after referencing to the definition of 'chutzpah' in numerous dictionaries, I didn't understand how it applied to me.

Even today as an 18 year old, I don't view myself as the audacious type at all. Much the opposite, really.

But I did love the word.

Chutzpah, chutzpah, chutzpah. I loved the way it rolled off of my tongue. It just felt so right. I even loved popping the 'p' at the end. Over the years, it'd become my one of my favorite words, along with wanderlust and daylight and dream and genital.

Don't ask about the last one. Really. Just don't.

Anyways, this summer before uni was supposed to be my chutzpah-stic summer. My chance to prove to Mum and Dad that I was more than just a wild heart, more than just some lazy dreamer with no initiative.

See, I had applied for this one prestigious medical internship program at Cambridge with an acceptance rate lower than that of Cambridge itself. I thought it was the perfect opportunity for me to grow and show others that I was actually serious about my career goals. My mum had once said that I had chutzpah after all, and I wanted to make clear that that daring and ambitious girl was still alive, ready to leave her mark on the world in a prominent way.

And I knew that internship would help me do that.

However, I got put on the dreaded waiting list. I was really bummed about it for quite some time but just two weeks ago, I received a surprising call from a professor who said that a spot had cleared up (which perplexed me, because who refuses an internship at Cambridge) which gave me the opportunity to take the fool's place.

As expected, I was absolutely elated and excited beyond belief because that's generally the feeling that overcomes you when you get accepted into a program at Cambridge fucking University.

I remember turning my iPod on full blast to rock out to some jams and do my traditional happy dance all around my room. I probably shouldn't have done that though, because the first song that came up on my shuffle was Nelly Furtado's "All Good Things Come to an End" and I suspect it had some weird jinxing power.

Why you ask? Just guess what happened next.

Just guess.

Nope, you're wrong. You think that the internship got taken away, correct? Nope. Not yet. I dropped my Macbook Air on my big toe and broke it. Exciting story, I'm aware.

And THEN, yesterday I got an uncanny call from the same professor, who first apologized for unprofessionalism and then broke the news to me that I was only 2nd on the waiting list and the internship was going to some other bint. Somehow I just saw it all coming.

Damn you Chris Martin, why do you have to write such perfect songs that I feel the need to load up on my iPod? Just why?

So just like that my summer suddenly became everything I didn't want it to become.

Well, I could still do pints and watch football and gossip and eat and have late night adventures and the like.

But it was still going to be a little awkward staying in my parents' bungalow in Dublin. Josh had broken things off after three bloody years and we had too many mutual friends and if I stayed here, run-ins with him were more than just inevitable. They're 110% certain.

I was usually not the type to avoid my exes like the bubonic plague but I think my actions are justified considering the fact that Josh and I were together for quite some time. And our relationship had never suffered. Maybe that was the problem? There needed to be some bad along with the good in order to create that balance in the relationship right? So you could figure out what the weaknesses are in order to fix them. I think. Gosh, I really needed to stop analyzing my failed romances. It didn't do me any good at all.

Anyways, my only choice was to go back to Westmeath and spend the summer there. The idea was almost too tempting. I missed Mullingar and Athlone, as I had grown up there. I had lots of friends that would welcome me back with open arms and possibly even throw a party in honor of my return. That kind of a thing was regular there. They weren't the rich and stuck-up folk but rather the more down-to-earth, exuberant, and friendly people that characterized the Irish really well.

But regardless, I definitely wanted to stay in Ireland for the summer before I headed off to the UK for uni. My father on the other hand really wanted me to go to London for a while and see if I could scout out some internships there because the whole Cambridge thing didn't work out. I protested against it, but before I could begin to argue he'd revealed that he had a plane ticket booked for me to fly from Dublin to London the next day.

Daddy dearest could be quite aggressive in that way. He means well, I'm sure, but I just wish he wouldn't be so darned domineering all the time.

So yeah, here I am, unattractive black circles decorating my features and hair mussed to look something like that of a poodle, lugging this awfully large Louis Vuitton suitcase and my Gucci tote towards the international arrivals area of Heathrow, hoping by some grace of God Fiona is on time because I'm starving.

I really need to learn to think in shorter sentences.

Well, I'm famished, and it's a miracle that I'm even thinking at all. Where was I supposed to go anyways? I feel like I'm dilly-dallying all over this damned airport. God, was that chicken? I swear I smell chicken. I turned around, and saw this middle-aged woman diving into a platter of Nando's peri-peri chicken along with an appateaser of peri-peri wings.

Seriously, the lord is testing me.

I was just about to pull out my cellphone, not to call my sister but to check out where the nearest Nando's was (because food anything else, including getting home safely), just as I heard her call out to me.

"TEA!"

I whipped my head around and smiled warmly as I met my sister's bright blue eyes that outshone my paler ones. I forgot about my raging need for something edible as soon as I saw her.

"COFFEE!" I yelped out the nickname I had for her and ran into her outstretched arms for an embrace. "I missed ya so much, Fi."

She kissed the top of my head and mussed up my already shabby looking hair and I frowned playfully. "Stop messing with my hair Fiona, it already looks like a haystack." I pouted and glanced enviously at my sister's own glossy locks that were naturally curled to perfection. Why couldn't I have been blessed with such beautiful hair? Sometimes, genetics was a real arse.

She sniffed the top of my head and wrinkled her nose. "Urgh, it smells like one too. When's the last time you showered baby sis?" I whacked Fiona's shoulder and pretended to be annoyed.

I began to walk ahead of her and I stuck up my nose in the air, acting like a total diva.

"Er, Teagan, the car garage is this way." I heard her call out behind me, probably suppressing some kind of a smirk.

I furrowed my eyebrows and spun on my heel, noticing Fiona roll her eyes playfully. "You're really something else, Tea. I've missed your antics."

I held back a grin. I loved it when my sister threw a compliment or two my way. Her appreciation always made me feel really special, although I'd probably never admit it to anyone. "No antics this time though. Atleast until I secure an internship, especially after that whole fiasco with those idiots from the world's greatest research institution." I sighed as we stepped onto a lift that would take us to the parking concourse.

"Aw, baby. Cambridge doesn't deserve you. You're better than what they and their rubbish internship programs have to offer."

I blinked forcefully and bit my lip, looking up at my sister. "I'm just—I'm just so sick of not being enough, you know? First, being waitlisted at Oxford and then being dumped by Josh and then this Cambridge nonsense. I don't know how I'm supposed to just pick myself up every time and brush off the rejection. It's difficult after the first three times." I laughed bitterly as we stepped off the lift and made our way to her trusty and old Ford Focus—well Dad's Ford Focus, which was the passed down to her after he began to receive six digit paychecks and load the family garage with Italian sports cars.

Fiona draped her right arm around me and squeezed my shoulder reassuringly. She used her left hand to lift my chin up to face her.

"Look at me, Teagan." I hesitantly lifted my head and looked into her glittering blue eyes. "You are more than what you make yourself out to be, okay? You are so full of potential. You're going to do something great. Something massive. Something revolutionary. Maybe you're already doing it. Don't let your past haunt you. Remember, what Mum always told us when we were little?" A sly smile spread across her face and I smiled a bit as well.

"Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of your life." We repeated together.

"But you know what I think, Tea? Tomorrow is for the losers and procrastinators. Today. Tonight, even. Start living for yourself and doing what you love. Just do you. You're going to go places. You know why? Because you're extraordinary, Teagan Burke."

My smile spread to my eyes and I grinned widely. "You really think so?"

"I know so."

Somehow my sister's words were encouraging. If anyone else had said them, they wouldn't have had the same effect. But coming from her it really meant a lot.

Suddenly, Fiona stopped randomly and I shot a confused glance at her way, as if to ask why we'd stopped by a row of cars that did not include her Ford.

However, I was soon distracted by a beautiful, sexy, awesome, amazing, perfect sight behind her and I died a little on the inside.

It was a god damn Range Rover.

I'm not weird or anything, but if I had to marry a car, it would definitely be a Range Rover. I don't know, they just make my tummy do backflips and turn my insides into mush. Yes, okay, I have the mildest crush on a car. Sue me.

"Speaking of extraordinary things…" I gestured to the gorgeous vehicle in front of me.

Fiona looked perplexed for a second but then she realized what I was pointing at and a huge smile spread across her features. She walked right over to the Range Rover, pulled out some magic keys (that I swear were not on her keyring 2 seconds ago), pressed a button, and the beautiful bastard beeped.

Like you know that magnificent sound that Range Rovers make when they're unlocked? Yep.

My eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. "Fiona!" I shrieked. "What are you doing? You didn't have to steal a Range Rover for me! Oh my god you shouldn't have played that much Grand Theft Auto over Christmas Holidays I told you oh my god Mum is going to be so disappointed! You've gone mad! You're going to get arrested! You are in so much trouble young lady!" I was panicking. Perfect Fiona committing a felony? No…wait….it didn't add up….unless….

"YOU BOUGHT A FUCKING RANGE ROVER!" I screamed out and began jumping around crazily, causing my suitcase and tote to fall over. Fiona started laughing at me and grabbed me and tossed my discarded baggage in the back of her car.

"Get in, you silly goose!" she said in between laughs and I literally bounced in, excited beyond belief.

"Does Dad know you bought it?" I squealed, taking in the insides of the gorgeous car.

"Yep, he paid for half of it actually. Isn't it awesome?"

"YES! Oh my goooood, can I drive it! Please, Fiona can I drive it!" I begged and threw on my favourite I'm-the-sweetest pout face, but just at that moment my stomach decided to let out an especially obnoxious grumble.

And then I remembered that I was actually hungry. No scratch that. I was fucking starving.

"Last time you were put behind the wheel, you crashed Dad's four-wheeler. I don't know how I feel about letting you drive this baby." I frowned and stuck my tongue out at Fiona like the mature 18-year-old I am and couldn't think of a witty response because suddenly I was overcome by thoughts of food and the woman with Nando's was haunting me and god I just really wanted something to eat. Anything. Please.

"Do you want some food?" Fiona smirked, holding a bag of what appeared to be the answer to my prayers.

"Are you God?" I grabbed the bag and squealed upon discovering that she'd made me a couple chicken and potato sandwiches with the crusts cut off, the way I liked it. She'd also packed me some Yorkshire pudding! This is why I love my sister.

"Dees ish sho gewd." I said in between bites. I was finished with all the food before we even got out of Heathrow's parking garage and I let out a satisfied belch and brushed the crumbs off of my top.

Fiona shook her head. "You're sick, Teagan."

"But you love me anyways!" I turned up Capital FM, UK's top 40 radio station, and was immediately hit with the chords of one of One Direction's hit singles from the previous year, One Thing.

"SHOT ME OUT OF THE SKY! YOU'RE MY KRYPTONITE!" I hollered at the top of my lungs as Fiona maneuvered out of the airport garage and onto the main roads.

"Oh bloody hell, Tea. You sound like a croaking toad!"

"Please, don't be jealous Fiona! Ooh can I stick my head out?" Without even waiting for an answer, I turned up the volume on the radio and began to push aside the roof.

"Teagan I—" But I was already standing up on my seat with my head sticking out of the sunroof and screaming the lyrics to the hit single of the boyband that was basically adored by all of the world.

I didn't care much for them, but they were definitely quite fit and they did produce some pretty catchy tunes. Made for some good I'm-a-crazy-mofo-and-I-don't-give-a-damn jamming.

My sister was used to my kookiness, so she just bit back a smile and focused on the road. I continued to dance around like a deranged spidermonkey, when suddenly I got the weird feeling of being watched.

You know what I mean? Like you just feel like a set of eyes are poring into your soul, trying to read your secrets and figure out your next move. No, but seriously.

It was a creepy feeling. I mean, I should have expected this, considering the fact that I was on a public motor way and I wasn't acting normal. I sneaked a glance around and flipped my hair, not seeing anyone.

It was just your usual London midday hustle bustle traffic, nothing out of the ordinary.

I then turned back to the cars in front of me and did another scan, expecting to see nothing and exhale a breath I had no idea I'd been holding in when it happened.

I locked eyes with a blonde boy who was standing up on his car seat as well, wearing a snapback, Ray Bans (well, I'm pretty sure we were locking eyes 'cause he was looking right at me but I could never tell with those damn designer sunglasses in the way) and holding an iPhone in front of him, recording something.

Well, not just something, he was recording me.

Somehow, his disheveled hair and pale skin, and braces resembled someone that I felt like I knew. Someone that I'd seen somewhere, maybe? A classmate from school? Or maybe I was just hallucinating?

And then he took off his shades and waved and the world stopped for a moment. Those crystal blue eyes were ever so clear, even though he was about 4 cars ahead of me. I knew exactly who he was.

I screamed and fell back into the passenger seat and closed the sunroof shut and began breathing heavily, trying to gain composure.

Niall fucking Horan was getting video of me.

But why?

**Hope you liked this chapter! I have this story posted on 1DFF as well so I wanted to see what kind of a response it would get here! Please review :) Thanks, big love! xx**


	2. Trouser, trouser, trouser, right in the

_When I was young we usedto run_

_We used to laugh, we used to smile_

_We used to run wild!_ -**"Rivers" by Kankouran **

* * *

"Teagan what in hell just happened! What's wrong with you?" Fiona screeched out as I tried to process what had just happened.

"No, Fi, you don't understand. I just….I just saw—"

"What? What'd you see?" she shot me a panicked glance and then turned around to check the rear to properly merge lanes. "Please tell me it wasn't a police vehicle."

I shook my head and squeezed my eyes shut and then opened them a few seconds later. "No, no, it wasn't the police." I lowered my voice a little. "I just saw Niall Horan."

I waited expectantly for her to burst out screaming or begin expressing her fangirl feels because despite being a twenty-two year old in a stable relationship, she's into that sugary sweet boy-band shit. The fifteen year old fangirl inside of her is still alive and thriving.

But this time she didn't even flinch. She just stared straight at the road. I immediately put a hand to her forehead to check if she was alright but she swatted it away.

"Teagan, what are you doing?"

I frowned. "Checking your temperature. Did you not just hear me? I said, Niall Horan just randomly popped his head out his car like you, know, when a piece of toast pops out of the toaster when it's done—"

She cut me off. "I heard you, Tea. I don't understand why it's a big deal."

"Well, because it's Niall fucking Horan of One fucking Direction, that's the big deal! And he has potentially scarring footage of me screwing the light bulb and petting the dog and flapping around like a mentally ill dolphin and who knows what he's doing with it!" Then a thought occurred to me. "Do you think he's like some kind of teenage ninja with a boyband cover who like videotapes prospects for his ninja agency and then shows the possible recruits to his sensei who makes the final call? Cause that's pretty awesome. In that case, I'm pretty glad that I got to be videotaped." Since my chances of becoming a doctor were slimming, I might as well expand my horizons.

Fiona sighed and propped her Versace shades on top of her head to look at me better. "Okay Teagan, number one. You need professional help, but since that's established, I'm going to move right along." I made an ugly face to which she responded by rolling her eyes. Classic.

"Number two: do not swear unnecessarily, it's crude. And third, Niall's a nice guy. He's not going to exploit you. Stop overthinking. He probably just thought you were cute or something and found your deranged sea creature moves entertaining. I wouldn't worry about it." She pressed her lips together and began to bop her head to Chris Brown's "Don't Wake Me Up" that was currently playing.

I scowled. "You talk like you actually know him."

She shrugged casually and bit down on her bottom lip. "Well I've met him a couple times."

The _fuck_?

"SHUT UP!" I sat up straighter, tugged at her elbow and began bouncing up and down on my seat. "YOU KNOW NIALL HORAN AND YOU NEVER TOLD ME!"

"Well, barely, but I've talked to him a couple times when he was with the guys." She replied dismissively.

"THE GUYS? YOU JUST CALLED ONE DIRECTION, THE HOTTEST BOY BAND IN THE WORLD, 'THE GUYS'!" I screamed out. This was bloody insane.

"No, Tea, I have a friend who's pretty close to them so that's how I was introduced. I barely know them at all." Then a grin slowly spread across her face. "I thought you didn't care for One Direction, because if I'm not mistaken I vividly remember when they arrived in Dublin last year you were going on and on about how you were certain all those people who went to the airport to meet them had mental problems. You were all like, 'green skirt, she's got multiple personality,' the scarlet trousers, 'she's not just mentally challenged, she's also color blind' and then to the one with the stripes, 'oh he's a hobo.'"

"Well that's insensitive, Fi." I made a face at her. "But for the record, I never said I had anything against the lads. I mean I'm sure they're nice boys. It's just that Harry Styles character that really irks me." I shuddered at the thought of the curly haired ass who bugged the shit out of me. I know you shouldn't critique a person's character without getting to know them personally but I had impeccable judgment.

I was even totally accepting of the one he was in a gay partnership with, er, the one who shopped in the lady's department of Topshop? Louis, I think?

Yeah, he seemed great. But not Harry. Harry was definitely a proper dick.

"Harry's not bad at all, Tea! I ought to ask Mum to cancel your gossip magazine subscriptions because they're all shit. You can't create an opinion of him based on the rubbish you read."

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever. I still don't like him."

"But you do like Niall." She wiggled her eyebrows playfully and smirked.

I shook my head at her and narrowed my eyes. "Okay please. No. I mean like yeah I do 'cause he's Irish and adorable and his voice is like ice cream on leather but I mean, no! Not even!" I suddenly became fascinated with my nails that were basically begging for a manicure and began to pick at them.

"AWWW." Fiona purred and tried to pinch my cheeks but I slapped her hands away and frowned. "You have a widdle crush on a certain Irish popstar, dontchu?"

"Focus on the road, Fiona."

"I will as soon as you stop thinking about Niaaaaaaaaaaaalllll."

"I don't even know the bloke!" I burst out.

"But you think he's crazy fit. Don't deny it. Those eyes, don't you just want to melt into them and swim in those pearly blue depths? And that tousled blonde hair, oh isn't it so perfect and voluminous, you just want to run your hands through it don't you? And his lips! Don't even get me started!" She puckered her lips and begin air-kissing.

I smirked deviously. "Ohhhh. Okay, Fiona. Alright. So that's how you feel. Interesting projection of your love for a specific Irish 1/5 of One Direction." I grinned proudly. I'd won this one.

"Okay not at all! I was describing how _you _feel about him!"

"Mmhmmmm."

Fiona smacked my arm with her hand that wasn't on the wheel. "Ugh, fuck you, Teagan! You're so damn annoying!"

"A wise soul once told me that you shouldn't curse unnecessarily. It's crude, apparently." I raised my eyebrows and bit my lip in order to keep myself from bursting out laughing.

"I hate you." She mumbled.

I took that as my cue to burst out in obscene, meaningless, American lyrics (Nicki Minaj) "BITCHES AIN'T SHIT AND THEY AIN'T SAYIN' NOTHIN', A HUNDRED MOTHER FUCKERS CAN'T TELL ME NOTHIN. I BEEZ IN THE TRAP, I BEEZ IN THE TRAP." I hollered at the top of my lungs and I saw Fiona shoot daggers in my direction. She hated Nicki and all rap music. I thrived in it. But I also thrived in Dora (the Explorer's ) Greatest Hits, so that doesn't say much about my music taste.

"Shut it off, oh my gosh, my ears are bleeding! Literally! I think my eardrum is just about to burst open!" she began to whine, so I turned off the music and began laughing.

"That was gold, Fi."

"You're ridiculous."

"Not the first time I've gotten that one!" I looked out the window and frowned, not recognizing the streets we were passing through, even though I'd been to Fiona's flat several times over the past year. I knew her neighborhood quite well, but everything was unfamiliar. "Hey why is everything appearing so different to me, Fi? I thought I knew this place quite well."

"It's cause we're not going home just yet, silly. We're at the East End." Fiona looked at me and grinned. "My friend's building has this terrace and it's so much like the open skydeck we had back in Athlone. I thought we'd go up there and have ourselves some fun on your first night in London."

I gasped. "Skydeck? You mean the one where we used to put on our knee socks and glide around like idiots?" I laughed at the memory. "We used to belt out songs and share secrets and whenever I needed to cry or vent we'd go up there till Sean found us. He'd do something so stupid it would make me smile and I'd stop with the emotional outburst."

"Then we'd tell stories and laugh till our stomachs hurt and fall asleep underneath the stars till Mum found us all and lugged us back into the flat." Fiona finished for me, a reminiscent smile splayed across her features.

"Good times, huh?" I replied, lost in the memories of the younger and simpler times in Westmeath.

"Yeah. But you know what? We're gonna re-create that. Except this time I have a little something to spice up the experience." She bit her lip slyly and pulled out a bottle of whiskey from a bag in the back and my eyes widened. Alcohol and I definitely got on well. Oh yes. We were fucking soulmates. "I'm not going to drink much 'cause I have to drive us back, but you can knock yourself out Tea. Literally."

I laughed and rested my head on my hands as Fiona maneuvered into a narrow parking spot near the complex. "It's weird how much we've grown up though. Seems like it was just yesterday when we were pouring each other kiddie cups of apple juice on top of the terrace and now we're big girls drinking alcohol out of champagne glasses. Time flies, huh Fi?"

"Unfortunately. This is why we should get our arses out of this car and up onto the terrace where we can actually have a good time." Fiona unlatched the car doors and grabbed a bag and gestured for me to hop out.

As soon as I was outside, I felt the breezy June London air tousle my hair a bit and I giggled as my honey colored locks tickled the tip of my nose.

"Come on, Tea, this way." Fiona started walking ahead of me towards the building and I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my sweater, twirling a bit as I raced to follow her.

Fi buzzed her friend to let us go up, and soon we were taking the lift to the terrace.

"Which friend did you say lived here?" I asked Fiona, who was vehemently texting someone on her Blackberry.

"Oh." This seemed to jolt her out of her reverie and she looked up at me and pressed her lips together. "I didn't say, but, Eleanor. We used to work together. She's a great gal, I'll introduce you to her sometime."

Just then the lift dinged, signaling that we had reached the top floor. Fiona squealed and linked arms with me and basically dragged me up the last flight of stairs that would take us to a door that led to the terrace.

As I stepped out, I was met with another gust of frosty London air but that didn't prevent me from taking in the beautiful sight that lay in front of me.

"Oh…my….god." I breathed out and ran across the smooth pavement of the terrace, taking in the various sights of London. From where we were standing, we got a clear view of the Big Ben glittering in the distance and the beautiful loop of the London Eye. A faint silhouette of the Westminster Abbey was also visible. It was just absolutely perfect. The lights and the atmosphere and the sounds and the people and oh my gosh. I could really get used to this. This eclectic explosion of life was just so fucking awesome.

Several recess lights lit up the terrace so we weren't immersed in total darkness or anything. Plus, the city lights cast their glow upon us and made up for the plain, star-less, sky.

"Liking what you see, Teagan?" I turned around and grinned widely when I saw Fiona holding up two pairs of knee socks. "I presume you know what these are for."

I ran over to her and snatched a pair and began to put them on, only to realize that I was wearing skinny legged trousers. There was no way I could put on the socks this way. I pondered over this for half a second when I decided to just discard the trousers because whatever, really. I had on lacy knickers underneath anyways and my jumper was pretty long so I didn't care much.

Fiona initially frowned at me as I unbuttoned my trousers but then her mouth twisted upwards into a smirk. "Tea, I feel like you're making an extremely bad decision because nothing good comes out of dancing around in your knickers and as a responsible and sensible adult I should probably tell you to put your trousers back on but…."

"Yes?" I looked up at her expectantly.

"But! I really don't want to because then you won't get to do this." She pulled on the long knee socks, straightened out her shorts, and pranced across the length of the terrace, gymnast style, before falling smack on her arse.

"YOLO!" I screamed and followed suit, doing a few cartwheels and then slipping and sliding across the smooth surface of the terrace, only to land on top of Fiona.

We began laughing maniacally as we tried to untangle ourselves from each other. As soon as I separated myself from her, I shimmied right over to the bottle of alcohol that Fiona had brought up and took a long and satisfying swig and felt the pleasurable burning sensation of the liquid flowing down my throat.

"Cheers to a fucking better tomorrow!" I screamed out and with the bottle lifted above my head I closed my eyes and sashayed around the terrace. "This is seriously the life Fi. Put on some tunes!"

Fiona grabbed a set of wireless speakers from the bag of awesomeness she'd brought up with her as I took another huge gulp straight from the bottle.

She then danced over to me as Kankouran's "Rivers" flooded through the speakers. She pulled me by my arms and twirled me around and around and we jumped around like idiots but no fucks were given at all. I was having too much of a damn good time.

I laughed and slid across the terrace once more and laid flat back on the ground with the bottle to my side. I let out a massive sigh, crossed my legs and stared up at the midnight sky. Could I just have this moment for life?

"Fi, if I ever get a flat here in London, it's going to be in this building." I closed my eyes and locked my fingers over my stomach.

Fiona walked over to the spot where I was lying down and sat Indian style next to me and smoothed my hair down. "We'll see about that. You've got to go to Uni first though and get a job and all that nonsense." She then paused for a moment. "Aren't you feeling a bit awkward without trousers on?"

I sighed sarcastically and sat up on my elbows and looked at Fiona. "My dearest sister, I came into this world without trousers on. So what's the point of wearing them now? I lost all decency as soon as I popped out of Mum's v-jay so I don't see a reason to redeem myself 18 years later."

She rolled her eyes in response. "Well why don't you just completely strip down in that case, oh-so-sensible-and-sage-like sister of mine?"

"Not a bad idea." I began to lift my jumper over my shoulders just to get under her skin, but Fiona tugged it back down.

"I was joking, you idiot!"

"I know, I just love being a tease." I smirked up at her and got up, stretched and picked up the bottle and lifted it up to my lips once more and took another gratifying sip.

If I happen to get super drunk tonight and jump off this building on some strange drunken impulse, well, it was nice knowing you all.

I'll be singing Free Fallin' by John Mayer, just to let you know. I'll make your ears bleed even in my last moments, because that's just how I roll. Or fall. Ha. Ha. I'm hilarious, aren't I?

But in all honesty, I don't think I'm too much of a terrible singer. I'm alright, really. It's just much easier to sound terrible than actually show others that you have a bearable voice. I've gotten so accustomed to sounding like a toad that I sometimes forget that I can actually sound decent when I try.

The only person who knows that my voice has the potential to produce non-primate sounds is Fiona, and hence she really dislikes it when I sing with my shit voice. It bugs her like no other, actually. And since I'm just about your typical bratty little sister, I love to tick her off. I find it amusing. And entertaining as hell.

Seriously though, when I'm actually singing, I become a whole new person. I'm like a Whitney Houston gone Beyoncé with a slice of Adele. But not really. Underlying point: I can sound human if I want to. I know, I had a hard time believing it myself.

But now as I gazed at the London skyline, I felt panged by some weird emotion and the lyrics of Ed Sheeran's "The City" came tumbling out of my mouth before I could even stop myself. And quite frankly, it felt wonderful, singing one of my favourite songs while staring out at the beautiful city spread out in front of me.

"You're singing with your normal voice!" I heard Fiona shout out behind me.

Whoa, I actually hadn't noticed that. But I had to admit, it did feel quite good singing naturally.

_This town is alive,_

_With lights that blind keep me awake,_

_Put my hood up, unlace and tie,_

_The street fills my mind,_

_Don't control what I'm into_

I swayed a bit and cradled my bottle of alcohol, lost in the moment and the song when all of a sudden I heard something behind me—well not just something, it was a beautiful rendition of the chorus of the song I'd just been singing. And mercy, that was not my voice. Or maybe it could have been. Or maybe I'm just drunkenly hallucinating and hearing a male voice sing out the chorus of The City exceptionally well.

_London calls me a stranger,_

_A traveler_

_Ohoohohh_

_This is now my home, My home,_

_Oh Woah_

That was actually very possible, considering the fact that I have previously hallucinated while in a drunken stupor that I was riding a cotton candy unicorn while wrestling a purple goat. In my defense, I'd watched a terrifying children's play the night before (I mean come on just because the animals are colorful and spew out sparkles and glitter from their behinds, doesn't make it suitable for all fucking ages) and for some reason I'd been drinking before 4 PM so that mix just did not mesh with me. My mother took me to a psychiatrist the next morning, so in case you had suspicions, I'm not a schizophrenic, but thanks for the concern.

However, the mysterious voice did not shut up. So it must have been real. Which was weird, because Fiona and I were the only ones up on the terrace. Right? Oh god, did I learn nothing from all those nights watching Criminal Minds and Proof?

A rapist had come up and was putting his master plan into action. That had to be it. Step One: procure the voice of an angel and sing with it. Step Two: lean victim against the wall of the terrace and go in for a kiss, but whisper threats into her ear. Step Three: kidnap said victim and take her away in your oddly colorful ice cream truck that no one suspects for strange activity, even though next to nobody buys god damn ice cream at 10 PM on a Monday. Jesus Christ. People are stupid.

My god, what if he'd gotten Fiona already? Shit. I needed to do something.

I had the whiskey bottle in my hand. Running away would have been utterly stupid, because if Fiona was in his hands, I needed to fight through this and rescue her. I needed to play this cool.

I decided that I would pull something batshit crazy move and dump the remaining contents of the bottle over his head and then throw the bottle right at him.

Yep, I was a genius. This was oddly exciting, and if I defeated this son of a bitch then you can officially refer to me as the Teaganator, Irish super hero with a killer bum and a gun for a tongue.

I slowly spun on my heel, keeping the whiskey bottle out of view, and then risked eye contact with the stranger.

And then my heart shattered. My plans for getting my start as a world-saving crime-fighter withered away in the polluted London air. I'd really wanted to follow in the footsteps of my personal inspiration, Perry the Platypus. Well there goes that dream.

Because none other than Harry Styles of One Direction (a.k.a. the band that obviously has some kind of an infatuation with me and feels the need to stalk me everywhere I go) stood in front of me, hair slightly mussed, dimples prominent, mischievous smirk splayed across his features, and green eyes sparkling in the moonlight. Basically he was bloody fit as hell.

And I hated it. He could go fuck himself. Little shit.

As I mentioned earlier, I never favored him much, especially after hearing so much about his womanizer tendencies and self-proclaimed cockiness in the tabloids. I know you shouldn't judge someone based on what you read about them in those stupid magazines (thank you Fiona Burke), but I just got this negative vibe from him you know? It's kind of hard to explain. It's that feeling you get when you know you're just not going to get on well with someone.

Plus, not to mention, he looks way too much like Josh. The resemblance is eerily strong.

So plain as that, I don't like Harry Styles.

Niall remains my favorite One Direction member. Don't let my sister in on that little tidbit, because she'll hold it against me for the rest of my life.

"Well, fuck." I stomped on my heel like a child, which sent my precious bottle of whiskey flying in the air.

Fiona, being the savior she is with the crazy reflexes caught it just before it shattered into a million and one pieces.

"Well, this is fucking exciting." I replied in the most blandest tone I could muster up and looked at Fiona who was staring at me like I was a dumbass. I glared right back at her. "What? Why're you looking at me like that?"

She ignored me and turned over to Harry who was looking right at me with the most amused expression on his face, his smirk still in place and a loose curl dangling over his left eye. I had a strange urge to brush it off. Ugh. It was irritating and out-of-place and it irked me more than his mere presence did.

"Sorry for my sister's rude behavior, she's just a little out of sorts today. Consumed a lot of alcohol, that one." Fiona laughed a bit nervously and stuck her hands into her pockets.

"Forgot to wear trousers as well, I take it." Harry looked me up and down and bit his lip, his grin growing larger as he met my eyes once again. I looked away immediately.

"Trousers are for the weak." I replied simply, to which he let out a hearty laugh and came to stand closer to me as I inched away.

Fiona came to stand by my other side and placed a hand on my shoulder. "This is my sister Teagan. Teagan, that's Harry."

"Oh I know who he is. May I ask you a question Styles?"

"Er—um, sure, I guess." He scratched the back of his neck, probably perplexed at my sudden forwardness.

"Do you and your band just enjoy materializing out of thin air? Like, is that your new hobby? First we had that totally random encounter with the blonde one and now you. Nothing better to do, so I'll just come out and smirk like a raging asshole and stick my pockets in my hands and sing "The City" because you know I'm a charming fucker like that." I rolled my eyes and leaned against the railing of the terrace. I was being awfully diva-like today. I had no idea what'd gotten into me.

He bit his lip and ran his hands through his already mussed up hair, leaving it looking ten times worse than it already did. "Well, my **pockets**were never in my hands, love."

"I never said they were."

"You just said that—"

"I did not!"

"Okay! That's enough." Peacemaker Fiona shot me a stern glance and handed me my bottle of whiskey again as if I was some child that would only calm down after it received its bottle. Okay. Please. I was not that immature. I raised my eyebrows and shook my head, raising the bottle to my lips yet another time for a hearty swig.

Fiona was obviously agitated at my behavior (but where was the surprise in that?) and decided to converse with the lad who must've placed a mop on his head as a replacement for actual hair. Seriously, that's what that thing resting on his scalp looked like. "Are you and Lou over at El's or something?"

Lou? Lou. Lou—is Tomlinson?

Oh.

_Oh._

Ohhhh.

Fiona was friends with Eleanor _Calder_, boyfriend of another 1/5 of One Direction. (I only know that because Zimbio did a whole spread on her and Danielle Peazer and I am a religious reader of all Irish gossip mags).

But point finally understood. That's probably how she'd already been introduced to the boys. That's why she was talking to Harry Styles as if she knew him!

The world finally makes sense, ladies and gentlemen.

"Yeah, they came back from holiday yesterday and he had a few things of hers in his luggage so we came over to return them and just jam for a bit." Harry shifted his eyes over to me and I totally caught his eyes wandering to my bum. Bastard. "El wanted me to come up and bring you down 'cause apparently she has tons of Paris stories to share with you."

"Really? Tea how about that, let's go down and I'll introduce you to El. It's becoming quite chilly and Mum would kill me if you returned home sick."

Honestly, yes, I would have loved to meet El. She seemed lovely and I love meeting new people. But I wasn't done admiring London just yet. I had to finish taking in the city—without any rude interruptions. Who knew how many peaceful days I'd have left to spend here?

"Er—I'll stay up for a bit longer. I'm not done taking in the sights just yet. You go down without me."

Fiona looked at me uncertainly and knit her eyebrows together. "Are you sure Tea? It's getting pretty late, and you're not exactly sober…"

"I'm fine, Fiona. Really. I barely drank anything." Which was true, because I lacked a pounding headache and I could see exactly where I was going, even in the dark, so clearly I hadn't drunk to my threshold yet.

"Well maybe Harry could stay with you, if that's not too much of a trouble? Is that okay with you Harry?"

Oh, for the love of God. Did she have to do this? I wasn't a baby, for crying out loud.

"Yeah, don't worry, I'll take care of her. I'll bring her back down." Harry grinned widely and threw a wink in my direction. Why the fuck was he winking? Who even winked anymore? Ugh. Frustrating little gay boy.

Not that I have anything gay people, because I don't. Like not at all. But if you're Harry Styles, then yes, you're a different breed and I do have something against you.

"Alright, Teagan. Be good. I'll be in El's flat and we'll leave in about an hour. Harry, bring her down there please. And I apologize in advance for, well, everything that is about to happen in the next hour." Fiona shot me a 'behave' glare, picked up the things we'd brought up to the terrace along with my discarded trousers and bounded down the staircase that led to the lifts.

As soon as she was out of sight, I went right back to looking at the London skyline. Except now it was much more difficult to do so because a certain Harry Styles wouldn't quit staring at me.

I tried to ignore his impending gaze, and instead focused my attention on the beauty of the city when I felt his hand casually rest on top of my arm that was draped across the railing.

"Um. Your hand is on my arm."

"No…your arm is on my hand."

"You're an idiot."

"And you're Irish!"

"Wow. You're a genius. Really. Standing ovation." I began clapping obnoxiously and rolled my eyes.

"It's odd, you seem like the type of bird that would have…reacted differently after seeing me. This is weird. You're not the least bit fazed."

"Well you have the insight of a rat. And you don't know me at all." I spat at him.

"Rats are pretty crafty creatures, actually, so I'll take that as a compliment." He retrieved his hand and stuffed it into the pocket of his fitted trousers that were actually not that fitted because they were practically sagging at his arse. "I take it that you don't like me very much, eh?"

"Well I don't know you, but I'm sure if I got to know you, we wouldn't be the best of mates. So I'm saving myself from all that unnecessary nonsense by pursuing a hostile relationship with you. Trust me, it's the best for us." I looked up at him and noticed that his eyes were actually quite beautiful, being a shade of emerald or jade or whatever fancy shade of green you wish to use to describe them. They really were something else and I was drawn to them.

I caught myself gazing for a second too long and blushed, kicking myself internally for getting carried away with his good looks. I knew he'd picked up on what I'd just done and I saw a satisfied smirk splayed across his features. Ugh. "Well you never know. We could be soul mates, Teagan." And then he began to study me even more intently (yes, it was just as creepy as it sounds) and rubbed the tip of his chin as if in deep thought. 10 pounds the three things running around in his mind right now are pussy, pussy, and pussy.

Suddenly his face lit up as if he'd just found the cure to cancer or something, which actually would never happen unless the cure magically happened to pop up out of some slag's vagina. "I knew I recognized you from somewhere!" he squeaked out. Yes, squeaked. He definitely possessed many rat like qualities. That penis nose wasn't doing anything to mitigate the resemblance either.

"What are you talking about? We've never met."

"Well, not officially." He bit down on his lip and pulled out his iPhone and scrolled through it for some kind of media and then showed it to me. "Watch this."

I then proceeded to watch precisely 30 seconds of a 4 minute video of me earlier in Fiona's car, dancing like an idiot to One Thing. God, just shoot me already. Someone should have arrested me for public indecency or something.

"Niall sent it to you, I presume?" I huffed and crossed my arms, annoyed at the blondie.

"Yep. Attractive moves, Teagan." Harry whispered.

"Oh, shut it you." His lips were dangerously close to my ear when he spoke, too close for comfort. I stumbled off to the right to put some space between us.

"Seriously, you're fit as hell. Even when you are wearing trousers." He grinned widely and shut off the phone and stuffed it back into his front pocket.

I sighed and placed my head in my hands for a second and then looked back up at him. "Look, I'm not going to fall for your hey-I-just-met-you-and-this-is-normal-for-me-so-here's-my-dick-suck-it-maybe charm. Okay, like, just 'cause you're kind of hot, you think that girls are going to instantly want to just fall at your feet as soon as you meet them and engage in a wild game of capture the flag, if you know what I'm talking about—"

I stopped talking as soon as I noticed that the smirk on his face still hadn't faded. How were my words not getting to him? I'm seriously beginning to think that the muscles around his mouth are frozen in that position. Seriously. He might need medical help. It's a good thing I've spotted this out before it becomes a prominent issue. He should be thanking me.

"You think I'm hot?"

I gasped. "You have the emotional intelligence of a fifteen-year-old boy. No, excuse me, a fifteen-year-old girl. Prick."

And then his smirk faltered. Just like that. Okay, no medical attention need be called upon, ladies and gentlemen. Those muscles around Harry Styles's face are capable of relaxing. And my pathetic goal of wiping the smile of his face has been achieved. Teagan: 1, Styles: 0.

"Oh really, Teagan? Alright, I see how it is. Would you mind if I said a few things about you?"

I cocked an eyebrow. "Okay, pretty boy. Have a go at it."

"Gladly. So we've been acquainted for fifteen minutes and I've done absolutely nothing to you yet you've been spewing all this random nonsense about me when you don't even know me. What does that say about you?" Somehow he was able to maintain his calm and even tone although I know he lost his cool the moment the smirk disappeared.

"That I'm just excellent at calling out an asshole when I see one?" I replied uncertainly.

"No you're rude, inconsiderate, and you have no manners. And no decency. You prance around thinking your shit's cool and you say whatever you want somehow you get away with everything but honestly it just makes you out to be such a child. You've got to grow up sometime Teagan." He broke eye contact and stared out into the distance.

What a twat, he was. "You're saying that about me? Me?" I let out a bitter chuckle. "Well if anyone's a pretentious douchebag here, it's you, Mr. I-think-I-can-get-into-the-knickers-of-any-girl-I-want. You're a womanizer. No one's ever going to like you for your personality, Harry, 'cause frankly it is shit. Hence you have no right to school me about consideration and decency because those topics are foreign to you."

Out of nowhere, he took a giant step towards me and pressed his body against mine and well..

I died.

Well I got as close to dying as one can without actually dying.

Because although Harry Styles is a first rate dick, he's also infuriatingly sexy.

But honestly was personal space like a foreign concept to him? I want to take my middle finger and shove it straight up his bumhole. Actually scratch that, he'd probably enjoy it because I have a feeling he's into that kinky shit.

I took a step back to maintain that distance between us so I wouldn't just melt into a puddle right there under his gaze. I don't understand why people with shit personalities always happen to be the ones blessed with the good looks.

"What you just said," he began, as his smirk returned and spread to his eyes which were glinting in the moonlight. "..proves that you know absolutely nothing about me. Because you don't. You're totally wrong."

"No, you're just as wrong about me as I am right about you being wrong about yourself." Word vomit, exactly what I was good at.

"What?" he knit his eyebrows together and his expression turned from cheeky to confused beyond belief within the matter of a few seconds.

"Ugh. I don't know what I just said but I do know that what you said about me isn't right! And you're still an asshole."

"Well you're wrong!"

"No you're wrong!" he groaned and threw his hands up. "This is ridiculous. How're we going to settle this?"

"Well, we could begin that game of capture the flag that you suggested earlier b—"

I cut him off right there and held up my finger. "Don't finish that sentence."

"Fine. What do you suggest then, Princess? I never leave an argument unsettled."

"Nor do I."

"Told you we're soulmates."

"Oh, shut up. How about a spitting contest?" It was a random idea, but it was simple and it'd resolve the argument easily. And damn, did I want to win. I _was _right after all.

Harry cackled at my suggestion. "You're serious? A spitting contest? Did you grow up in the gallows?"

"Did you grow up in the gallows?" I imitated his stupid North-Western English accent. "No, I don't know if it was made clear but I'm from Ireland so I'm already awesomer ten times awesomer than you. And we Irish people appreciate the awesomeness that lies in such activities as spitting contests. They can get quite competitive, you know?" I raised my eyebrows and glared up at him and tried to appear intimidating. I'm sure it worked.

"Ooookay. Alright. Whatever you say Princess. So let's have a go and be savages, why don't we?" he shook his head at me as if he couldn't believe what he was getting himself into.

Also, why did he keep calling me 'princess'?

And why did I actually like it? Stupid whiskey, messing with my thought processes.

"Let's go. Spit down the side of the wall. We can see how far the spit goes because the whole street underneath is illuminated. Ready to get slaughtered?" I challenged.

"Born ready. What's the prize?"

I pondered this for a second and had a crazy idea. Good to know that even my alcohol-infused brain is able to come up with devious things. "Loser admits defeat and accepts that the winner was right. So basically you'll be admitting that you are a pretentious, male genital. Also, winner gets to make the loser do one thing they wish."

Harry perked up at this. "Mmm. I like where this is going."

"But within reason."

"We'll see about that." And he threw in another bloody wink. Asshole was going down.

"Best of 3!" I shouted and ran over to the ledge and positioned myself while Harry came over and stood to my left.

Just as I was garnering a huge wad of spit and getting ready to put it out, the asshole on my left decided to graze the back of my exposed thigh with the back of his hand, completely freaking me out in the process.

The wad that was supposed to be massive ended up being smaller than the penis I don't have and Harry won the round.

"That's cheating! You can't—you can't pull things like that!" I whined, irritated at his uncanny behavior.

"Resistance is key." He smirked and positioned himself for Round 2. "Get ready to lose, Teagan."

Oh hell no. Hell to the fucking shit no. If this was the way he wanted to play it, well game on.

For this round, I positioned myself so I was standing almost in front of Harry. He was tall enough to see over my head so I wasn't completely obstructing him. But right before we were to go, I pulled my jumper up just a bit, giving Harry a glorious view of my lacy red La Perla knickers and, well, my bum.

He definitely was not expecting that, and I know my mission had succeeded when he started coughing on his spit and ended up ejecting the saliva right on top of the ledge of the railing. My wad on the other hand soared down with utmost ferocity and landed a few stories below. Score!

"You're a spawn of the Devil! You're even wearing red!" he shouted out, clearly frustrated. Good, I liked to see a little anger in a man. Harry was sexy when he was mad. Wait, what?

"Resistance is key." I grinned and got ready for the last round. I looked over to Harry and saw that he had his game face on. No fooling around this time. This was it. I inhaled and exhaled, closed my eyes and said a prayer, and then got ready to win.

I was almost certain that I was going to claim the victory until that earth-shattering moment when I spat right into a potted plant that was sitting outside someone's windowsill a story below. Fuck.

"I WON! YES!" Harry pumped his fist in the air began to do that stupid American dance, the Cat Daddy or something? Yeah, he started doing that and then launched into some other weird movements that only a lunatic like him would even know of. I leaned against the railing and sulked.

Why did life suck?

Harry then finally took a breather from his idiotic dancing and lazily draped an arm around my shoulder. He smelled like a mix of Bleu de Chanel for men and laundry detergent. It was an intoxicatingly sensuous combo. I almost liked it.

Until I realized the scent belonged to him.

I quickly brushed his arm off of my shoulder and crossed my arms over my chest and continued to pout. Even the beautiful sight of London wasn't reassuring.

"So now's the fun part!" Harry rubbed his hands together mischievously and stuck his tongue out between his teeth. "First, you must say these exact words. Repeat after me: Harry Styles is the most amazing, kind-hearted, considerate, good-looking, and genuine person I have ever had the pleasure of meeting."

I rolled my eyes. Of course he would make me say that. "Harry Styles is a fucking asshole who looks like a rat and smells." Okay, the last one wasn't true at all, because he smelled pretty good. No, that was an understatement. He smelled so fucking amazing I almost just wanted to grab him by his mane and kiss him and capture his flag.

I did not just think that. It's the whiskey talking.

"Okay, come on Teagan, you're making this hard. Hurry up and say this so we can get onto the exciting part." He grinned widely and I slapped a hand to my face. Really, why do I even get myself into these situations? The odds must be forever against my favor.

So I repeated the bloody sentence so I could just get this over with and go to Fiona's flat and get some much needed shut-eye and never see Harry Styles again.

"Now whatever the hell that sick little mind of yours has thought up better be within reason. Or else I'll cut your testicles off and feed them to the descendants of Moby Dick in the Atlantic Ocean. Check yourself before you wreck yourself." I glared at him, hoping my threat was effective.

However, he just laughed and looked at me innocently from underneath his lashes with a cheeky grin plastered across his face. "Kiss me."

Oh my god. Clearly, ladies and gentleman, we are dealing with an idiot here.

"What do you not understand about the whole 'within reason' bit? Are you daft? Wasn't our whole argument about you and your inability to keep it in your pants? You're basically just proving that I'm right and that you're a sick asswipe."

Harry pushed his hands through his hair and looked at me without a change in expression. "Well, my reasoning is that if you really didn't like me that much on first impression, then you would have left the terrace a long time ago Teagan. But there you are. And here I am. What are you waiting for? It's just one kiss."

I wanted to protest and start up another argument but a strange feeling passed through me, because he was right. If I really hated him that much, I wouldn't have put up with him for a second longer than I had to.

But I was still here. So that meant something, right? After all, it was just one kiss.

I munched on my bottom lip for a second and then slowly walked up to him and I saw his smirk only widen, if that's possible.

I stood right in front of him and casually placed a hand on his chest and felt his abs through his thin scoop neck t-shirt. I moved it up and down his lean torso and casually trailed a path with my fingertips. His hand had found a place underneath my jumper on the small of my back and he'd begun to rub circles on a spot right above the waistband of my knickers.

My skin burned with his touch and I felt goosebumps everywhere (although 50% probably appeared because of the nippy weather.)

The whole time his glittering green eyes didn't tear away from mine for even a fraction of a second. He blinked slowly and I seized the opportunity to lean my face up towards his. Our noses touched and I licked my lips, feeling the heat emanating from the situation.

My hand on his chest continued to make a path down his built torso, past his navel, past his belt, and finally found a home at the crook of his pant zipper. I teased around a bit, and moved my fingers around the general area of his length.

I felt him slightly grunt and I smiled. Perfect. I kept my hand in place and inched my lips closer to his, as if I was actually going to go for the snog and got him all fired up and tense.

But before my lips even grazed his, I used the hand that was doing wild things in the general area of his crotch to hit him hard—right in the balls.

And then I ran for my fucking life.

* * *

**Thank you for reading! I have this story on 2 other sites as well and I wanted to see what kind of response I would get on :) please drop a review and let me know what you think! **


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